“Definitely,” Itadori agreed. “He’s always done all right by me.”
“Agreed. I hate to admit it, but he’s talented and charismatic. Many of the sorcerers look up to him. Although I do hate to admit it.”
“You said that twice.”
The relationship between Itadori and Ijichi had warmed since their time stuck in the apartment together. Maybe it had something to do with the experience of being out for a drive. The loose atmosphere made it easier to talk, so Itadori said what was on his mind.
“You sure have a busy schedule, Ijichi.”
Ijichi responded with a half-smile. “Did I look that busy to you?”
“Well, you calculate stuff and handle documents and visit people and serve as Gojo Sensei’s errand boy and—”
“That bit about ‘errand boy’ was unnecessary.”
“Sorry,” Itadori said. “But despite being so busy, you don’t do much sorcerer-type work.”
“Ha ha! It’s pretty unexciting, isn’t it?”
“Honestly, yes!”
“I admire your bluntness,” Ijichi said. “Anyway, fighting is outside my expertise.”
“And Gojo Sensei makes up for it by pushing all sorts of work onto you.”
“Yes, I guess he does.”
Itadori could see Ijichi’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and for a moment they looked cold. Worried that he might have said the wrong thing, Itadori looked away.
“It isn’t so bad,” Ijichi said. “If I were doing more work typical of a sorcerer … The thing is, sorcerers and Jujutsu High staff tend to think of themselves as detached from society.”
“Yeah, I sorta realized that today,” Itadori said.
“But we are part of society, which means attending to countless details and dull chores.”
“Yeah, I can see that now.” Itadori nodded as he gazed at the streetlights passing by.
As the night deepened, the number of lights increased.
With its hundreds of thousands of lights, the city looked like the night sky descended to Earth. Each light signified human activity. They spread from this city throughout Japan and across the world. Jujutsu High was a place that faced the darkness, but it existed amidst the lights of all these people. Itadori truly understood that now.
“Thank you, Ijichi,” he said.
“What made you say that all of a sudden?”
“Your work really is unexciting.”
“Yes, what about it? Did that need repeating?” Ijichi said.
“It’s just, I realized that thanks to your unexciting, painstaking work, sorcerers retain ties to the rest of the world. I’m thankful for that.”
“You are, huh?” Ijichi’s voice was faint. The lights of passing cars reflected in his glasses, making it hard to see his eyes, but his face in the rearview mirror didn’t have a bright expression.
For a time, the only sounds in the car came from the vehicle’s tires racing across the asphalt and the music from the radio on the car stereo. The chorus to the current song was one Itadori had heard countless times. After the lyrics ended, the catchy pop melody continued for a while before eventually fading away. When that happened, it felt like the mood in the car had also somehow changed.
Now it was Ijichi who initiated a conversation. “Um, Itadori? You shouldn’t thank me. Instead, I should apologize.”
“Huh? What for?” He had never imagined an apology was necessary and couldn’t guess the reason. The childlike, ingenuous expression on his face showed his utter confusion.
Ijichi frowned. His next words came haltingly. “The other day, I sent you into a deadly situation.”
“Oh, that?”
Itadori recalled the series of fights against the special grade cursed spirit. That had indeed been a bitter experience, but he didn’t hold it against Ijichi.
Ijichi’s voice only became more grave. “I said it was merely an evacuation. I also warned you not to engage. I didn’t mean to fail in my obligations as assistant manager. But at the very least, that was no place to send first-years. And you were the resulting sacrifice.”
“Yeah, but … I’m right here, alive and well, aren’t I?
“After having died once.” Ijichi’s voice trembled.
Itadori had wanted to laugh this off, but when he heard that tremble, he shut up. He had lost people close to him, and he himself had died. As yet, however, Itadori had never experienced someone else dying through his fault. Nonetheless, a feeling of heart-wrenching regret washed over him.
“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m a sorcerer who can’t fight—an adult whose job is sending students, all younger than I am, on dangerous missions. You may have come back from the dead, but I will send you back into battle.” The sound of the engine drowned out the sound of Ijichi swallowing. “As an adult, I want to lend seamless support to your missions, and I’ll try to do better.”
“Ijichi …”
Maybe this was an apology, or maybe it was a justification. But what Itadori had seen of Ijichi’s work today was a form of atonement and proof of the man’s dedication.
“I vow to do my job,” Ijichi said.
Ijichi’s unsteady voice was deeply apologetic and low, as if a weight were crushing it. It didn’t have Gojo’s dependability or the principal’s severity. Instead, it expressed intense worry and sincerity.
Ijichi couldn’t fight, but he would never allow himself to say, I won’t let you die again. Despite how he felt, he had to send Itadori on more missions.
Itadori had no idea how disheartening that must’ve been to a conscientious adult. He did understand, however, that Ijichi’s words expressed his innermost feelings and carried the meaning of what he most wanted to convey. So he received them, accepted them, and smiled.
“Like I said. Thanks, Ijichi.” Itadori spoke softly as he looked at his reflection in the window. “I’ll probably keep being reckless and make you worry, but that’s my choice. I’m not gonna stop.”
“That’s just how you are, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna get stronger so you don’t have to worry about me forever, Ijichi. And you’ll help me, won’t you? With the things I don’t understand or know? And stuff that takes more than fighting to solve?”
“Yes, I will,” Ijichi said.
His hands trembled on the wheel. Itadori pretended not to notice. He figured adults didn’t want children to see such things.
Instead, Itadori kept talking in a bright voice. “Are you going home now, Ijichi?”
“Yes. I’m getting hungry though, and since you’re already in disguise, we should probably eat out.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?” Itadori asked.
“Well, we’re already out, aren’t we? Besides, it must have been boring for you to just have to watch me today.”
“Ha ha! Sounds good! You know me well.”
“Itadori, what would you like to eat?”
“Meat!”
“That’s a sensible answer,” replied Ijichi. “Steak or yakiniku, which will it be?”
“That’s the ultimate dilemma. Wait twenty minutes while I think about it.”
“That’s too long.”
Their laughter filled the vehicle.
The car’s tail lights streamed through the night as if shaking off teardrops.